When I was a senior in college, one night before graduation, my girl friends and I were sitting around talking about what it meant to be a “grown up.” We came up with a top ten list of how you know you’re a grown up. I remember what was on the list were things like: keeping Pepto Bismol around, just in case; waking up to your bones creaking; asking people to speak up so you could hear them. (All of which are true, by the way.)
But what we didn’t include on the list – both because we were having fun with it at the time (there might have been beer involved) and because we just didn’t know – is what it really means to be a grown up.
What it really means to be a grown up is to have others depend on you. Whether a child or a dog or a husband or a PTA or a job or a parent, someone counts on you.
It also means that you understand and deal with things that you might not have understood as a child: sick children, bullied children, losing children, losing friends, divorce, dying.
Now, that’s not to say that being a grown up is one big downer. With being a grown up comes all kinds of amazing, beautiful, fabulous things, too – like being able to have a drink when the aforesaid things happen. And, more importantly, getting married, having or adopting a child(ren), adopting dogs, raising a family, watching children and family grow, watching friends grow. So many good things.
For some reason, right now, many of my friends are going through more of the crappy stuff than the fabulous stuff. It’s breaking my heart to know that their hearts are breaking.
We had our own, ahem, “rocky” adventure this weekend (pun intended). Hank spent the better part of Thursday throwing up (TMI, I know). Then it stopped. Then it started again. Then it stopped. I didn’t take him to the vet at first because Hank’s stomach is really sensitive anyway, but Phil correctly noted that he’d been sick for more than 24 hours – it was time to see what the problem was.
He had swallowed a rock. No, I’m not kidding.
Hank has always chewed on rocks. He came with that weirdness when we adopted him. But he always spits them out, notably when I show up and say, “Hank, spit it out!”
But this one – the size of a GOLF BALL – made it into his belly and was causing a whole big problem.
In fact, it had caused his stomach to be so distended that the vet told me that he might have a tumor next to his stomach. The tumor was either benign or a malignant sarcoma that would mean he might have three months to live.
And with that, I crumpled up on the floor and began to sob.
I called Dear Husband. We prepared for the worst. We made decisions that make your heart hurt. I signed forms. I kissed Hank goodbye and sobbed and sobbed and blubbered and sobbed.
I know some of you might be thinking, “Oh my gosh, he’s a dog.” If you know nothing else about me, you know that I love my dogs just as fiercely as I love everyone else in my family.
Hank went in for surgery at around 12:30 am. The vet called at 3:30 am to tell me he was fine and that there was no tumor. It was just his stomach.
I thanked God. I thanked the vet. I cried some more.
Fast forward three days and Hank is home. To say I am grateful is an understatement.
I am sleeping in the family room with him until he’s able to get up the stairs. (P.S. Being a grown up also means that it’s not as easy to sleep on a couch as it used to be.) Hank sleeps where I sleep. It’s what he does.
I’ve seen a meme circulating lately that says, “I can’t adult today.” I totally get that. I’m kind of there, too.
So now I’d like to slightly revise my definition of being a grown up. Being a grown up means that you have to handle these kinds of things and still manage to put pants on every morning. It means that someone counts on you but also that you can count on others. It means that you have to be strong, but you can crumple up in a ball sometimes, too, and that’s ok. Just get back up, preferably with a loved one’s help.
But having Pepto Bismol on hand is still a good idea. Just in case.
A "recovering lawyer," I turned in my power suits for power tools and a life of DIY. I believe in merging old and new to make a house a home.
Awww … Mr. Hank looks like a sweetheart. Glad he’s going to be OK. Our aging Black Lab, Cooper, was chosen from among other pound puppies by my son when he was six. That was 10 years ago. It’s going to rough when Cooper’s time has come.
B.C. (Before Children) my husband and I had to have our 17-year-old cat, Opie, put down. We boo-hoo’d for weeks. The “just an animal” folks have never shared that special bond.
Thank you, Cathy! He is a sweetheart. A love, through and through. It is such a special bond. I always say that you rescue the dog, but then he or she rescues you right back! Thank you again.
Karen, I am so glad to hear Hank is home and okay. Why does he still have the IV line? Being a grown up means many more choices too. Being ABLE to help when, as a child, we could only watch. We can know our friends (fur, feathered, skin, finned, et al) and hold the vision of them as healthy and happy. I hold that vision of you, Hank and the rest of your family. May you know all the joy of being alive and continue to share this joy as you did today. Thank you!!!!
Thank you, Christina! He doesn’t actually still have the IV line. That was a picture from when I got to visit him at the vet. Thank you so much for your lovely, kind words. I so appreciate them. You are so right – appreciate that joy!!
Awww, great pic of you two….he’s a sweetie , glad he’s home doing better and on the mend!
Thanks, Mary! I’m so glad, too! Thank you for your sweet words and encouragement!
Hey Lady – I am glad things are back to “normal” you are one of the best grown ups I know!!
Well, as normal as they ever are, right?!? Thank you, friend! Back atcha!
Oh, Karen, I know what you mean. I almost cried just reading about Hank. So glad he’s better (and you too). Each of the past two summers, we’ve lost a fuzzy family member and I still tear up just thinking about my boys! We still have Gracie though, but you never forget any of your past loves 🙂
So true, Cheryl. Thank you for sharing that. Hank is really doing well – knock wood – and we are so grateful!
I am so glad your doggie is alright. I have a 15 yo Bichon who is blind and deaf but she is still spunky and demanding and her”little white fluffy bark” still sounds like a Rottweiler. I an happy to clean up after her occasional inside mishaps, because being an adult female means you will often have them, too. As long as she loves to eat and is happy to see me when I get home with no questions asked and will snuggle with me at night, I am happy to do whatever I can to make the remainder of her days as happy as possible…another part of being an adult. Big Hugs to Hank for Kathy and Maggie.
Thank you, Kathy and Maggie! I know what you mean. Bear, the Dog Who Doesn’t Eat Pizza, is 14, and she has her issues, too. We just try to keep her happy and healthy. Thank you again for your sweet words.
I totally get it, my dogs are my children and at the end of last year in the course of 2 months we had 1 that had to have surgery for a torn CCL and our “old man” had to have a toe removed on his front paw because of a cancerous lump. Which on most dogs is not a huge issue to be missing a toe but when we adopted him, at the age of 11, he had 2 bad hips and both his back knees so he used his front paws to bear most of his weight and his back paws just to stabilize so of course we panicked and thought he wouldn’t be able to walk . Thankfully they were able to remove all of the cancer and he has no idea he is missing a toe and walks what the same cute strut he always has. It is amazing what dogs can go thru and overcome!
YAY! I’m so glad. They’re resilient animals, for sure. I’m glad he’s well now!! Thank you!